


The Lucky Ones

by avidvampirehunter



Series: Murphy's Law in Love and War [1]
Category: Logan Lucky (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Babysitting, Clyde is a Teddy Bear (Who Will Smash Your Car Windows), College Fic (But Not the Way You Think), Comedy, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, I Told Myself I Wasn't Going to do Research but HERE WE ARE, Miscommunication, Nub Rub, Post Logan Lucky, Rated M for Marry Her You Simple Logan!, Romance, Smut, Virgin Clyde, Virgin Rey, Virgin West Virginians, a pinch of drama, barbecue sauce, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-14 23:31:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15400008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avidvampirehunter/pseuds/avidvampirehunter
Summary: When nineteen-year-old Rey Kenobi left her home in London to study at a small West Virginian University, she never considered how quickly things would fall into place—or apart. Luckily for her she meets Clyde Logan, a quiet, thoughtful local who is always willing to lend a helping... hand.After the so-called "Hillbilly Heist," Clyde Logan rests a comfortable, lonely magnate. Now pushing thirty, he knows his time to find a good, strong woman to fall in love with what's left of him is running out. He gives up any hope of finding her—until he meets the girl of his dreams.So when the pipes burst in Rey's college dorm, letting her stay with him is, logically, the ethical thing to do.





	1. New Heights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RebelRebel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelRebel/gifts).



> Hello, all! So I fell into the garbage pit that is Reylogan. Yay, me! And look, RebelRebel is here, too! Happy Birthday, girl! You are just so amazing and supportive—you always reassure me when I feel uncertain and generously offer both your ear and advice. You are PHENOMENAL! <3

* * *

 

It’s a day for drizzling in London, the humid Summer bending beneath the grey froth of clouds to shower sparks on pavement puddles. Every drop is as light as a mosquito bite, and just as paranoia-inducing. Especially now, with the curdling thunder in the distance—delaying Rey Kenobi’s flight to Charleston, West Virginia and, indubitably, all hope of maintaining her threadbare patience.

She tugs her suitcase back over the bright linoleum, the rainshower moving in from the north window, and plops into the plastic chair sans enthusiasm, plus one overpriced venti Triple Mocha Frap from the Luton Starbucks.

Sighing, Rey pulls her phone from her purse, checking her notifications. All two of her Facebook friends have liked her post.

_Going to America. So excited!!_

As if on cue, Finn’s face bubbles onto her screen. Even after all this time, she will never stop loving that icon of his. Perhaps it’s the sparkle of the Snapchat filter in his eyes, or the horrendously fake flower-crown over his well-groomed poff.

She thumbs his face and reads.

_Is there WiFi on the plane?_

Taking a drag of her frappuccino, Rey sets it aside and types. _Not sure. Flight got delayed._ She adds a disappointed-looking emoji. For emphasis.

_Woah, that’s bad luck!_

_Haha, guess so._ She pauses. _Not like there’s anywhere better to be._

He sends an offended sticker—a purple monster. _How dare?? Jk. I’m happy for u, Peanut!_ Three hearts.

Rey leans back, reclining as best she can. _Thanks~ Me too._ Three hearts.

 _Ur gonna grow the BEST flowers, Rey. Srsly._ Sunflower, Tulip, Rose.

Smiling, her throat closes, emotion welling and flooding her chest. To keep from drowning she takes another sip, relishing the icy flakes as they sliver down. She can feel the chocolate pool in her gut, wonderfully cold in contrast to the horrendous June heat.

Blinking back her tears, she types slowly, with one thumb. _God I hope so._ Add heart.

_U totally will. When u get back and I’m a millionaire, I’ll Angel you._

The rain falls harder, battering fruitlessly at her back. She can’t _not_ smile at his blatantly Millennial enthusiasm. _Thanks, Finn. I’d really appreciate it. No pressure, though._

 _Anytime, Peanut~_ Kiss.

They chat for another hour before Finn has to leave for work. When he’s gone she trashes the empty cup and rifles through her bag. In any other situation she would listen to her music—when she was younger, it’s all she’d ever do. Sit out on the porch, look up at the sky and just… _lose_ the world underneath it.

Today, however, she will be reading from her crisp, new edition of _Don Quixote—_ The first on the syllabus for her Literature class which she definately may or may not be dreading.

She’s yawning when the announcer pings over the intercom that the flight to Charleston is boarding. She almost doesn’t hear it over the rush of air in her heavy jaw. She scrambles to her feet, not bothering to stash the book as she yanks up her retractable suitcase handle, rolling to the gate.

As she comes closer, her heart begins to pound. Every step carries four beats. One for the first time she’s ever left Europe. Two for her first trip alone _._ Three for not wanting to disappoint the college donors.

And the fourth for everything else.

Rey smiles politely at the occasional passenger who glances up at her, finding her way to her seat. She shoves her suitcase into the overhead, keeping her phone and _Don Quixote_ —because damn it all it’s bloody _good—_ and pats the messy hair of her bun, setting it to rights.

When she settles into the padded seat, everything is perfect. She smiles at her luck—she got the window seat, and no one next to her. She straps in for takeoff, eyes glued outside as they begin their ascent.

The clouds are still grey, everything misty for a while. She looks down at her phone after her ears stop popping, setting to a relaxing playlist, and cracks open the book again. Her eyes rove as the hours drone, sometimes tired enough to make her drowsy, until she comes fully awake.

It’s all white, now, as she looks out to marvel at the world so far beneath her. The clouds grow sparse, revealing a world of green and grey, shadows casting their rippling wavelengths over the fields far below.

 _America._ She’s made it—after years of dreaming to see something beyond the din, know more than Uncle Plutt’s dusty flat or the cafe on the corner where Finn buskers. More than her old school, her stupid cleaning job at her uncle’s pawn shop. More. More. _More._

She takes it all in greedily, praying that luck will stay on her side and make it last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [London Luton Airport (previously known as Luton International Airport) is located in Northern London. The image of the Starbucks in the collage is located inside]
> 
> [To "Angel" someone is slang for becoming an Angel Investor (also known as an "Angel Funder") who provides capital for a start-up company, usually with some expectation of convertible debt or ownership equity]
> 
> [A "busker" to us Americans is someone who plays an instrument (usually a guitar) on the street/sidewalk/what-have-you for money]
> 
> ["Don Quixote" by Miguel de Cervantes is one of the oldest Spanish novels to shape Western culture. It follows Don Quixote de la Mancha (real name "Alonso Quixano") who, after losing his mind reading romantic tales, sets out on a quest to revive chivalry and become a knight in shining armor. Adam Driver (who plays both Clyde Logan and Kylo Ren/ Ben Solo) stars in the film "The Man Who Killed Don Quixote" by Terry Gilliam]
> 
> {BONUS: This author is not endorsed by Starbucks, Snapchat, or literally anything else}


	2. Sudden Sights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thank you so much for all the awesome support! I was feeling really worried about the Clyde characterization for this chapter... hopefully everything worked out fine. (Still new to non-Kylo territory, haha).
> 
> Anyway, have a SPECTACULAR day~! *hugs*

* * *

Clyde crashes into the couch with a grunt, laying back. His neck pops with a gratifying—if not slightly worrying—click that leaves him more awake than he has been all morning. Sunlight streams through the windows in Mellie’s living room, the crisp scent of Pinesol at odds with the old, dowdy couch bowing under his weight.

He rubs his neck, pinching back at his nerves. The bed here is far too small for him, but he knows it’s best to keep to Jimmy’s plot and see it through in all due-diligence.

It’s been a little more than a year since the race, and not much has changed in their daily lives. The Logan property on the Danville outskirts waits empty and lonesome, unlike their mattresses. The process of slowly depositing their shares was a painstaking one to say the least, but the suspicion is absent and the sheer relief of it all feels… less than satisfactory.

Sighing, Clyde toys with a loose seam on the arm of the couch, glancing between the parted curtains to the porch, wondering. He feels sluggish these days, waking up around noon, leaving his sheets a mess. Mellie never says much about it, of course, but he can see it in her eyes. He grew up with them, after all. He knows when she’s thinking about _something._

Not pity. Not that, never that, but something close.

He can feel something similar for himself, lately.

The days have begun to blur together. Wake up. Work. Sleep. Repeat. In between is the occasional visit from Jimmy, running errands with Mellie, and his part-time shift at Duck Tape.

And yet, after a whole year of being the richest man in Danville, Clyde Logan feels bereft.

The microwave in the kitchen goes off. He rises again, lumbering inside to pull out his steaming Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwiches. He takes the package in his teeth and pulls, letting it air out to cool as he stares at the lackluster steam.

Mel said she would be away all day. First at the hair salon and then with Sadie. Jimmy must be crashing at the trailer like a vagrant. Or perhaps a motel. Either way, Clyde suspects he will see him at the bar tonight.

That in mind, Clyde wanders back into the guest room, sausage patty singing his tongue as he wrenches open the trunk at the end of the bed.

Inside, an ocean of books sits patiently. His own, small world of wonders. Yes, in the dreary days at the trailer—and now, here—losing himself in that world was easier than living in his own.

He kneels to get a better vantage, plucking around for the right one. He’s in no mood for zombies—never was, why does he even _own_ this?—he’s read all the science fiction, fantasy… romance.

Chewing his cheek, Clyde glances to a more sinister, shadowy corner of the trunk. He sighs out in defeat, leafing through the paperbacks to find… _it._

He belligerently tosses the novel onto the pillows, turning and strapping on his arm from the chiffarobe with a practiced ease. The metallic fingers whir and flex, never ceasing to surprise him with their intricate design and durability. He’s gotten pretty good with it since it was delivered last September.

In minutes he’s back on the couch, struggling into a good position. He peeks out the window again, ensuring that no one is coming. The street is clear, the house silent, his mind abuzz as he cracks open his well-worn copy of _Cruel Desire_ by G. P. Due and begins to read.

_He came closer, cornering me. The suffocating presence was all-consuming and heavy, pushing me down with the strength of his gaze. “You know I can take whatever I want,” he rumbled._

_Indeed, I did know. He was capable enough to steal the files from my person, gain access to the secrets hidden on the jumpdrive in my back pocket. But he didn’t know what I knew; had no idea the plans up my sleeve._

_“I’m not giving you anything,” I hissed, inching my way closer to the fire extinguisher. Just a few steps more, just one move, and it would be in my hands, against his temple, on the floor. Then I could finally be rid of him and this traitorous longing in my soul, return to headquarters and try to forget the things he made me feel._

_He didn’t take his eyes off mine, following me back. “We’ll see,” he murmured. Suddenly, his arms barricaded me, thrusted on either side of my head as he ducked closer, blocking my way out. I wouldn’t be intimidated by his handsome features, nor his massive, rock-hard—_

Something slams into the door, and Clyde jumps. As the keys jingle and the wood scrapes, he scrambles quickly, shoving the dimestore novel deep into the couch cushions before leaning back, wrapping both hands over his knees as if he’s been like this all morning.

Little, rapid steps approach from the kitchen. “Uncle Clyde?”

He looks over his shoulder to find his niece, her hands on backpack straps, smiling at him in that half-uncertain way of hers. He rises stiffly. “Hey, Lil’ Sae. I thought you were goin’ on that field trip today…”

“She is,” Mellie calls, wiggling her way inside. Several shopping bags dangle and bulge in her hands.

Clyde gives her a look. “It’s one-thirty in the afternoon and you took her out of school?”

Sadie giggles like it’s all some private joke. “Nooo. I go to school in Lynchburg. I’m on my Summer vacation. Aunt Mellie is taking me up to Charleston to meet my class,” she gestures behind her.

“We thought we’d see if you wanted to join us for a late lunch,” Mel says, leaning back against the counter. She smirks knowingly at him and his moppy hair. “Or second breakfast?”

He frowns at her, but his brood is interrupted by a small tug on his sleeve. He looks down into the big blue eyes of his little niece. “Please come with us, Uncle Clyde. It’ll be fun,” she promises sweetly.

She meets his thoughtful glare with a steady, unwavering smile, and not three hours later they’re all on the 119 to Charleston.

At their lunch outing Sadie shared all the intricacies of the sixth grade, including the two boys who may have crushes on her—that she will _not_ tell her Daddy—and the Lynchburg Grade School’s goal to provide college tours to each child in their graduating class. Something about “preparing them for a bright future full of opportunity.”

Clyde leans his arm against the window in the passenger seat, watching the trees pass blurrily by as they head north. Mel and Sadie trade stories of juvenile romances—Sadie’s thankfully lacking in the shadow of Mellie’s sage advice.  Clyde tries to tune it out, not caring in the slightest to see where such a conversation goes.

He’s had enough romance for one day.

~~oOo~~

Rey stretches her arm over her chest, twisting, easing the strain in her back before she slips into the chair. She’s not used to carrying all these books, but there’s a certain thrill in having so _much_ to be responsible for.

The atrium in the main complex shines down with its afternoon light, her station _perfectly_ placed next to the window. Her laptop and textbook open, iced coffee in hand, she takes a sip to help get her mind working.

Though the semester doesn’t start for a few more weeks, Rey couldn’t keep herself away from getting to work. All her life she’s been a rather active mind, preferring stimulating activity and knowledge over sitting still. It was the bane of her uncle's lazier existence, she's sure, though he could never hide his own gratification when she got to working scrubbing the bathroom.

She remembers meeting with her advisor, practically fresh off the plane. She’d only just unpacked her things before scaling down to meet Mr. Calrissian. He’d been surprised to meet the transfer student, but charming all the same. His salted hair and mustache lifted when she told him she plans to major in botany and minor in business, as if it's the first student to ever want to own her own flower shop.

Rey takes a break for a moment to stare out the atrium window, admiring the gorgeous landscaping in their rear garden. It's more greenery than flora, but it doesn't keep her from admiring the fushia and violet blends of azaleas and lavender stalks.

After a good hour she wraps up her notes on chapter one, and is about to toss her empty cup, when a tall woman fusses at the front counter.

“What do you mean none of them showed up? I don’t have time to give a full tour of the campus with the board breathing down my neck.”

“Well, it _is_ Summer,” the receptionist replies wearily. “You can’t count on these kids for everything, Amilyn.”

Rey shoulders her bag, unable to keep away. “Ma’am?”

The woman turns, obviously flustered, before her dark eyes shine like gemstones. “Yes? Oh. Hello...” she looks Rey up and down, a near-devious smile on her face. “Are you a student here?”

“A new one,” she nods. She adjusts her heavy pack, holding out her hand. “I’m Rey.”

The woman takes it soundly in her thin fingers. “Amilyn Holdo. You're a polite one, aren't you? Don't see much of that anymore.”

Rey shrugs, dropping her hands to her sides, but says nothing to argue with her. Instead, she looks between her and the receptionist—whose name is Kaydel, according to the nameplate. Pretty. “I heard you were giving campus tours?” She says conversationally.

“We _were,”_ Amilyn groans, crossing her arms. Her striking purple locks bounce as she shakes her head, catching Rey's eyes. “But the volunteers haven't showed up, yet.” Suddenly, that devious look grows on her face again, sprouting like a weed. “Say… Would you be interested?”

“I, uh,” Rey smiles nervously. She's never been all too good with crowds, preferring a place in the audience—front row, if she's lucky. She barely knows this campus herself, and yet her stupid feet carried her over here for some, indescribable purpose she can feel brewing in her chest. “I'd love to.”

Holdo claps her hands together once, holding them fast. “Excellent! Here,” she reaches over, plucking a brochure from the countertop and handing it over. “There's a map on the back and a general list of things you'll need to know. You said you're new here, right?”

Rey nods, scouring the backside. “Yes, Ma'am.”

“Then don't worry much about the campus tour. Just show them the buildings and tell them what you already know. You're gonna be great,” she promises, tone a bit political. Still, Rey reassures her she will do her best before the woman clops off, taking her heels and hair with her.

“Good thing you were here,” Kaydel drawls with a smile on her small lips. She points out the window with her pen. “The bus is pulling up.”

“Bus?” Rey echoes, turning to watch. Sure enough, a yellow behemoth crawls down the pavement, settling in the parking lot. When the door opens, growing children file out, pooling around the bus and fidget about. “Wait—they’re kids?” Rey gawks.

Kaydel laughs, sitting back in her chair. “Yep. It's the annual sixth-grade field trip. We prefer to take them now, while the students are away.” She levels her wide eyes on Rey, voice dripping with amusement. “Think you can handle it?”

Rey gathers herself with a breath. Yes, she can. She knows she can. They’re just children, after all. With a determined smirk, she reshoulders her pack, brochure in hand. “Of course. What's the worst that could happen?”

~~oOo~~

Mellie unbuckles her seatbelt. “Bus is here.”

After waiting in the parking lot for a good fifteen minutes, the Logans are all-too eager to get out and stretch their legs. Clyde especially. He stands as the bus pulls in, only getting a brief glimpse of the gleaming campus complex before his view is blocked by an adamant shade of yellow.

Sadie leads them around, joining her tittering gal-pals as they spill from the doors. Mellie shakes hands with the teacher, trading an “Oh, you must be Jim’s sister!” for a“Yes, Ma’am.” She introduces Clyde offhandedly, who nods and stares openly back at the children who notice his arm.

One little boy meanders up to him, showing a gap in his teeth when he looks up into Clyde’s face, then back to his left arm. “...Are you a cyborg?” he drawls.

Clyde frowns. “No.”

“Cyborgs are robots. He’s a trans-radial amputee,” Sadie interrupts, standing between the boy and her uncle with crossed arms. “And that’s _way_ cooler than a robot, Trayvon.”

Trayvon smiles widely at the arm. “Cool.”

Clyde doesn’t know what to make of it—he’s never been good with children, at least, not from his perspective—and doesn’t have to try as a voice calls from the direction of the school.

“Hello there. Is this everyone?”

He follows the sound with every intent of normalcy, but is met with the opposite. A young woman walks closer, her hair up and loose in a bun, dark strands lit in the sun like threads of fresh hay. But her smile is impossibly brighter, digging into her sweet-appled cheeks, and for some amount of indeterminable time Clyde is unaware of his racing heart.

The teacher wades through the parting waves of inattentive students, meeting Rey’s smile with her own. Lipstick shows on her teeth, but Rey doesn’t seem to notice. “We’re all here,” she greets warmly. “The students are very excited.”

“Great,” Rey nods, holding the straps of her backpack. “It’s just me today, so it won’t be much of a tour,” she explains sheepishly. Clyde focuses on her wincing, apologetic look, marveling at the humble words from her accented, lilting voice.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that, Dear. Oh, where are my manners,” she titters. “I’m Ms. Melvin, and these here are the Logans.”

Rey follows her gesture to Mellie, reaching out to shake hands. “Hi,” they trade, Mellie urging the “Mel” moniker. She turns to Clyde, her eyes wide as saucers as they scale up his chest, landing on his face. It’s an effort to school her awed expression—as not to appear rude—the compulsion to gawk at his striking features hitting her hard. She holds out her hand. “I’m Rey.”

Clyde swallows, reaching out to take her hand. His gentle grip is combated by her crushing fingers as she shakes once in a simple, almost professional pump before she lets go, leaving his skin halfway burning. He nods. “Clyde Logan, Ma’am.”

Rey blinks, a bit flustered. _Ma’am?_ His voice is much deeper than she expected, the West Virginian drawl especially strong with him.

The little girl at his leg smiles up with small, white teeth. “And I’m Sadie Logan. But Sadie’s just fine,” she introduces.

“Nice to meet you,” Rey replies soundly. Ah, now she sees. Sadie must be their daughter. _Cute family,_ she thinks, pushing down the warmth in her cheeks. For a reason she won’t admit, she avoids any further glances at Clyde Logan as they head into the building.

Once she begins to speak, the tour is much easier than she anticipated. The children primarily entertain themselves, admiring the greenery and architecture without any need for droning preamble. Sadie, especially, as she holds her mother’s manicured hand and drags her around.

They skirt past the dorms, and Clyde is only-half paying attention to his surroundings. It may not be proper to stare, but luckily enough she doesn’t catch him.

 _Rey._ It’s a pretty name; like rays of sunlight. Her strong, feminine jaw and hips give her subtle contours and curves, but its her face that really captures him—wide, dark eyes and lashes casting spindled shadows on her cheeks.

He really, _really_ shouldn’t stare like this.

“Say, Rey,” Ms. Melvin starts. “Tell us a little about you. What can we do to get into Charleston?”

Rey blanches, holding onto the straps of her bag. “Well, I came by plane.” Some of the kids giggle, Sadie’s eyes trained up. Rey meets them and shrugs. “I guess I… went to school, worked hard, got a scholarship and…” she scoffs at herself. She sounds stupid. “I don’t really know. Just lucky, I guess.”

If Clyde’s attention wasn’t on her before, it _definitely_ is now. The smallest of smiles quirks his lip.

They finish the tour a few minutes later, Rey answering as much as she can. Yes, the dorms have bathrooms. No, there is no recess. Yes, she’s British. Yes, yes, no, yes, not sure.

As the students load back onto the bus, Ms. Melvin tethers Rey with her thanks and praises. She’ll be sure to recommend all of her students to come back before high school graduation.

Hearing that reassures Rey to no bounds, leaving her a nodding, smiling mess until she finally boards and the bus pulls out. One kid waves, she waves back, coughing in the exhaust fumes as a wave goodbye becomes a waft.

When she turns back the Logans are watching the bus leave, Sadie squinting in the sunlight. Rey squints back. “So, where do you come from?”

Mellie toys with Sadie’s hair as she answers with a polite smile. “Danville, about thirty minutes south of here.”

Rey nods, careful to avoid looking at Clyde. She doesn’t know much about Mel, and would hate to make a woman feel uncomfortable. She notices an absence of a ring, however, and only wonders on it for a moment. Cohabitation is common enough. They make a sweet family. Cute couple. Why is she still thinking about this?

“Can we get ice cream?” Sadie asks, squinting up at Mel.

“Of course, Baby. We should get going. It was nice to meet you, uh—”

“Rey,” Clyde interjects.

“—Rey,” Mellie turns Sadie around, shepherding her towards the striped camaro, leaving Rey and Clyde alone.

“You have a wonderful family,” she offers.

He looks at her with an appreciative sweep of her face. The general warmth of it spreads in Rey’s cheeks, but she blames the sun for that.

“I do,” he agrees sheepishly, thumbs in his pockets.

Suddenly, a flash of silver catches her eye, and Rey notices the sleek metallic sheen of a false arm. _He’s amputated,_ she realizes, following up the trail that disappears into his sleeve. She wonders how far up it goes, and how he isn’t sweltering in that dark button-down.

He catches her, frowning. Most people tend to notice it, eventually. He’s usually not so embarrassed about it, though. He’s just a stranger to her, is all, and she to him. Women look at it all the time. So what is it about this one that makes him want to hide, or explain?

“Um,” Rey stammers. She holds out the brochure, a bit crumpled. “Here.”

His eyes meet hers, big and sparkling amber in the sunshine. She manages to tamp down her razzled nerves as he plucks it slowly from her fingers. “What’s this?”

Rey shrugs. “For Sadie. In case she wants to come back.”

Clyde glances meaningfully at her, pleased she would remember his niece's name and think so highly of her. That, and other reasons. “Well, thank you. I’m sure she will.”

They hold each others’ eyes just a beat, before Rey backs up. “I should,” she nearly trips, “get back. To my dorm. It was nice meeting you,” she waves sheepishly, turning on her heel, overly eager to put the awkward experience behind her.

Clyde’s arm drops to his side, watching her go. He holds onto the brochure, waiting until she’s out of sight before turning back and plunking himself back into the camaro, wondering what the hell just happened.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like The Lucky Ones, stay tuned for more Reylogan content in Murphy's Law of Love and War: a series of non-related Reylogan fanfiction (inspired by my madness!)
> 
> Come say hello on tumblr @avidvampirehunter! <3


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